Hello, world! This blog began on September 28, 2007, and so far nobody has come looking for me with tar and feathers.
On my honor, I will do my best not to bore you. All comments are welcome as long as your discourse is civil and your language is not blue.

Happy reading, and come back often!

Copyright 2007 - 2015 by Robert H. Brague

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

I will never understand Feedjit

I mean, when I look into its machinations it becomes curiouser and curiouser.

For example, just within the last 24 hours:

Someone in Taichung, T’ai-wan [sic] did a search on westminster abbey cross stitch and landed on this post.

Someone in Hollywood, Florida, did a search on evie chitty miss america and landed on this post.

Someone in Luxembourg did a search on emmy award statue and landed on this post.

Someone in South Shields, South Tyneside in the U.K. did a search on Newt Ascending Astaire’s Face and landed on this post.

Now that is just sad.

What gives, anyway? In The King and I, Yul Brynner sang a song called “Is...A Puzzlement!” and I share his confusion.

And someone in Moscow, Russia, did a search on бенедикт XVI играет на рояле (Russian for benedict XVI plays the piano) and landed here. which though not exactly about Benedict XVI playing the piano does include a photograph of Benedict XVI playing the piano.

So it appears that sometimes Feedjit seems to work as expected and sometimes it simply doesn’t. Sometimes it makes sense and sometimes it just seems to close its eyes and choose targets at random from everything out there in the wild blue cyber-yonder.

5 comments:

I have Feedjit on my blog and when I click on the red dots it shows what post the person read, but how do you find out what they were searching? The one that shows that is from my Stat Counter, the number that shows how many page views my blog received – and there are some weird searches.

Someone in Kanchanaburi, Thailand did a search for "mature gigolos in Canton Georgia" and ended up on your blog and that someone was me - even though I of course have no desire to employ a Georgian gigolo! I just wanted a few tips from a professional.

My Other Blog Is A Rolls-Royce

About me

has lived on earth for 74 years and has been married for nearly 52 of those years to Ellie, his wife. They have 2 sons, 1 daughter, 2 daughters-in-law, 1 son-in-law, and 6 absolutely magnificent grandchildren. He enjoys reading, playing the piano, driving in the country, sitting by an ocean or a lake, watching birds fly, gazing into a roaring fire, holding his wife's hand, and spending as much time as possible with his grandchildren. He doesn't like doing yard work, walking a dog who is definitely not in the mood, or cleaning up after one who is (Jethro, 2004-2013, RIP).

Me, circa 1943

A few months before this photograph was taken, I fell through a hole in a chain link fence in New York City and landed on my head on a school’s cement playground that was six feet below sidewalk level. I had a brain concussion. Some people think this helps explain why I am the way I am today. Other people insist nothing can explain why I am the way I am today.

Poem by a Yorkshire Lad

Song for Lost Youth

Perhaps I should have cradled it
Like a dove
Kept it safe with tender love
But I squandered it -
Gushing-blundering-raging
Like a wild mountain stream
Desperate for an ocean
That was but a distant dream.
...I just never thought
That I could have loitered in the shallows
Reflecting the blueness of the sky
- Concealing silver fishes
- Quietly biding my time
- Stretching it out.
And so, and so it's gone now
- My ephemeral youth
- That precious once only gift
- That honeyed sweetness,
Leaving only the trembling resonance
Of distant echoes
From half-remembered hills.

(Neil Theasby, 2013. Used by permission.)

Me, circa 2010 (with Mrs. RWP)

A reader in Oregon has requested a current photograph. For the thick of skull, I want to say that I am not exceedingly tall nor is Mrs. RWP exceedingly short. She is sitting in a chair; I am standing behind her and slightly to her right, your left. I am nothing if not thorough. Handsome and thorough. Exceedingly intelligent, very handsome, and thorough. I forgot humble.